


Enfermo

by morguevampire



Category: Burnt (2015)
Genre: Cuddling, M/M, Sick Character, adam is worried, poor little tony, tony has the flu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 11:38:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20407123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morguevampire/pseuds/morguevampire
Summary: Adam and Tony are both known for their work ethnics. They're stubborn. They always give 110%. But even the best maitre d' of Europe gets the flu sometimes and even the best chef in the world worries about other things than the sauce being too thick sometimes.





	Enfermo

**Author's Note:**

> idk my pals. i just had a really bad cough and because i couldn't sleep i started this??  
maybe there'll be a part two someday but until then, enjoy. 
> 
> As always, english is not my mother tongue and i appreciate all criticism! 
> 
> Danke und viel Spaß :)

Anybody who knew Adam Jones knew he was ambitious.  
Perhaps ambitious was too nice of a term. People might say he was a workaholic, obsessive, egocentric and stubborn.  
Even Adam himself knew it.  
But at least Adam was aware that he was a stubborn bastard when it came to his work as a chef and isn’t that the first step to getting better. Knowing and acknowledging your bad habits and flaws?  
Then again, Adam actually wasn’t the only one that absolutely lived and breathed their work. Sure, there was Helene who was a great chef, but she had Lilly who would always come first and Kaitlin was climbing up the career latter but she was relatively young and very social on her free days which had no room for any work-related business. 

It was Tony who was as bad as Adam when it came to being a workaholic.  
Taking the endless hours he spent in the office aside, he always stayed until the very end and even longer and he was always the first in the restaurant to arrive. Not before the cooks but before all of the service staff. You would see him come in as well as leave with papers, tax sheets, work schedules or whole folders of fuck knows what tucked underneath his arm. He took his work home.  
He would come in on his days off to “check if everything was going smoothly” and even if it was, he wouldn’t leave. He’d just “check a few emails” but stay way too long for “a few emails”. He would then regularly check the front of the house and watch over his waiters.  
So really, Adam stopped taking Tony’s complaints and worries serious. 

When Adam was beaten that dreadful afternoon and he still stood at the pass, cooking even though his whole body was about to give in, Tony was extremely close to simply closing the restaurant in order to get Adam to fucking go to the hospital for medical attention. But he knew Adam would have had none of it and it would have ended in a disaster, perhaps even bigger than the one in Paris. 

It was the same the other way around. Well, not the exact same situation but similar enough - Showing that the pair of them put their work before anything else. 

\------------------------------------------------

It was a normal Tuesday. Adam had his three stars, the restaurant was always full, the reviews were extraordinary and both service and kitchen ran smoothly.  
It was the beginning of lunch service and Adam hadn’t properly seen Tony yet, he simply greeted him with a “morning” when he heard him come through the back door of the kitchen without lifting his head. 

Now he heard the office door swing open and turned around to see Tony walking less graceful than normal to start his work at the front. He looked like absolute shit.

His nose was red, poorly concealed by make-up which was way too dark for his otherwise sick looking paleness. His eyes were sort of swollen and hooded and he looked as if he was about to pass out. He was sweaty and slouched slightly.

“Hey Tony, you alright?”  
He only got a weak thumbs-up as an answer and on top of that a cough. The really awful kind that sounded like he was about to puke up his entire lung. 

Adam put down his knife and approached Tony, feeling his forehead with the back of his hand. Tony ducked a bit but Adam already felt how hot he was. 

“Tony you’re practically burning. What the hell are you doing here?” 

“I’m fine Adam, just let me do my work.” 

His voice was raspy, as if he had chain-smoked through three entire packs of cigarettes on his way to work. 

“You’re absolutely not fine and every idiot can see that from ten miles away. You should be in bed and not out in the front, coughing on my beautiful dishes and infecting our diners.”  
Tony just rolled his eyes because first of all, Adam knew he was as European as one can get and didn’t measure in miles and second, he, of all people, had no right to forbid him to work. He might have felt like death but that didn’t mean the restaurant wouldn’t need its maître d’. 

“I just want to see if everything is in order. I won’t actually serve anybody today but I can still make sure everything is perfect and watch over my restaurant.” Tony struggled through the sentence with his barely audible, unusual deep voice. “And it’s just a cold, it’ll be gone by the time dinner service starts.” 

Adam had to scoff at that because it was clearly not just a “cold”, it was the fucking flu or something and one didn’t have to be a doctor to see that.  
Tony apparently had enough of Adams protests against him and pushed him lightly to the side to pass which was a mistake since it made him feel extremely dizzy and suddenly very sick and the next thing he knew was bending over the kitchen’s wastebasket and puking into it. He hadn’t eaten anything for breakfast, so it was simply the gastric juice of his stomach that came up and it burned his throat even more than it already did on its own. 

Adam immediately came to his side, rubbing his back with one hand and holding him up with his other. 

“Fuck Tony… Somebody get me some cold water and a wet cloth or something!” 

The staff, partly watching the scene, partly prepping for the oncoming orders for lunch service obeyed quickly and Helene handed Adam a glass of ice cold water and a cool wet dishtowel to put onto Tony’s neck.  
When the last retching of Tony passed, he straightened up slowly, took the wet cloth from his neck, wiped his forehead and mouth with it, drank a sip of water and slicked back the lock that escaped his otherwise perfect slicked back, but today rather greasy, hair. 

“’m fine. Nothing to worry. Just needed to get that out of the way. Now stop fussing and let me manage this fucking restaurant. Mierda.”

It was probably supposed to sound bossy and professional but his weak, raspy voice made it sound pathetic. 

Just in that moment Kaitlin stepped into the kitchen with the first order of lunch service and stopped short in her tracks when she saw the mess that was Tony Balerdi. 

“For fucks sake, boss. You look like absolute shite.” 

Tony simply gave her a look of warning but it just came across as a grimace. 

Tony had given her a call in the morning asking her to come in a bit earlier today in case he was late due to “an appointment” which was in fact a date with his toilet.  
Kaitlin could already hear on the phone that Tony wasn’t all too well due to his voice but she thought he would just pick up some cough syrup or throat tablets before coming into work and that it was really just a sore throat but seeing him like this--. That sick, fragile, pale body forced into a suit, looking absolutely miserable, made her pity him as well as sort of angry for her boss’ stupidity and stubbornness to be at the restaurant nearly 24/7.  
It almost made her feel like he didn’t trust her enough to manage one single, normal Tuesday without him, but then she had to remember this was his joy and pride. Ever since Adam saved it. 

Still, in the end it was Kaitlin who talked some sense into Tony’s stubborn head. 

“You are going home right now.” Tony was about to interrupt her but Kaitlin had none of it and slightly raised her voice, coating it with her thick Scottish accent.  
“No! Don’t even try to argue with me boss. You look absolutely shite, you probably feel absolutely shite and the guests are going to give us absolute shite when a sick, pale, miserable maître d’ walks into the dining room, contaminating them with the Spanish flu or something. So, I’m calling you a taxi right now and you’re going straight home to rest. I’ll tell reception to get medicine from the pharmacy and deliver it to your apartment and I’ll call Dr. Hudson to give you a visit.” 

“B-but..” Another cough which shook Tony’s whole body. 

“No but! I can manage, I have managed it before. You know you can trust me, boss and I won’t disappoint you or set the restaurant on fire. Now shut up and leave this kitchen before you contaminate the food.” 

This earned her a little smile and a nod of agreement from Adam who helped his staff a bit while Kaitlin was lecturing Tony. 

“Kaitlin’s right Little Tony. Leave my kitchen or I will personally kick your sick ass out of here. We will be just fine and the sooner you get some rest the sooner you will be properly on your feet again and the best maître d’ of Europe.”  
He said it in a soft tone and that was all it took for Tony to give in and let himself be led to the back door by Kaitlin. He just was so bloody tired. Helene had already called a taxi while Max took over her post for a few minutes. 

Getting home was a blur. Tony really did feel like death and he was so out of it he couldn’t even remember how much or whether he actually paid the cabbie.  
But he seemed to somehow manage to get home and get out of his uncomfortable suit and into his nice cotton pajama pants and his white shirt. He was so exhausted that it took him not more than a minute to pass out covered in his silk sheets on his bed. 

\----------------------------

In the Langham kitchen work continued as usual. It wasn’t the busiest lunch service but all the tables were full and the orders were coming in at a steady pace.  
Adam had all his movements memorized down to the core, he could probably do the scallop sashimi with lemon confit in his sleep and so while going through the motions all that was on Adam’s mind was Tony.  
In fact, lately, even when he wasn’t ill, Adam found himself thinking about Little Tony. And not only in the middle of the night. And not only about how grateful he was for all the chances Tony has given him and how he has taken him in even after Paris. No, he also thought about his boyish, soft face. He thought about that light smirk and that rare bright grin, only ever shown when Adam said something very funny. Because he knew Tony was a bit self-conscious about his teeth. He thought about his rich deep brown eyes.  
Adam thought about how he always looked so graceful and put together. With his fancy suits and slicked back hair. Adam sometimes caught himself imagining taking Tony’s amour apart. Taking off his tie, wrinkling his perfectly pressed dress shirt, messing up his hair with his hands.  
That particular trail of thought often came after an exhausting day in the kitchen, when Adam was perhaps taking a shower or already in bed, with his hand down his pants. 

These thoughts didn’t necessarily bother him, but they opened a whole new world of confusion for Adam. Because he wasn’t sure whether he had actually fallen for Tony Balerdi or whether his fucked-up brain was just projecting his gratefulness towards him in a sexual way.  
Usually these thoughts came up when he couldn’t sleep at night and he felt completely helpless because he didn’t know if those feelings had been there all the time and he just suppressed them to focus on his third star or whether he should feel bad for leading Tony on or whether he was just imagining everything.  
The only thing he was sure of was that he would not react immediately. He couldn’t just suddenly start something with Tony, or confess his love. Especially since he didn’t even know himself whether it was actually love or something else that his messed-up brain just made up.  
And in case he had indeed fallen in love with Tony Balerdi, Adam would try his upmost best to not completely fuck everything up. He was afraid. Because he knew, considering his history, that he would somehow ruin everything and if there was one single person on this whole planet he did not want to ever lose, it was his Little Tony. So, it was better for Tony to not know about Adam’s thoughts. After all, Tony deserved better.

While garnishing endless plates, Adam thought about Tony in another manner. He worried about him.  
He wondered whether the doctor had already stopped by to make sure Tony was comfortable. For a moment, he was even sick with worry about whether Tony had even made it home safely. What if he broke down on his way to the apartment and he was just unconsciously lying in his own puke on the streets of London or something like that.  
But Kaitlin had informed him that Tony sent a quick message simply saying “home” and another one which probably cost a lot more effort saying “don’t kill my restaurant”. 

Adam was relieved but still couldn’t get the need of wanting to take care of his best friend out of his system. Until an idea popped into his head. 

In their luck, Adam selected a rich, traditional beef broth for the lunch menu today. With fancy poppy seed-semolina dumplings and fresh herbs. Perfect for an ill maître d’.  
So, when the chaos of lunch service was coming to an end he announced his idea of going over to Tony’s apartment to check up on him and drop off some soup. Helene and Kaitlin agreed immediately, since they too were fond of the maître d’ and wanted only the best for him. 

The hours between lunch service and dinner were always slow and usually Adam either spent them experimenting with new recipes or (on a particularly exhausting day) taking a little walk along the Themes to think about new dinner menus and whatnot.  
Helene promised to keep the chefs in check and prep everything accordingly for the evening and Kaitlin gave him Tony’s address and the spare key to his flat that he always left in his office drawer, in case he’d forget to take his keys with him someday (which has never happened but turned out to be quite convenient at the moment, since Adam didn’t want to wake up Tony in case he was sleeping.) 

Adam packed away a generous serving of the soup in a plastic container and stopped by the reception of the hotel to ask if they had already delivered the medicine to Tony’s apartment. They hadn’t so he took them with him as well and soon was on his way. 

Tony’s apartment really wasn’t far at all from the Langham. Two stops with the tube and a short walk later, Adam found himself trying to quietly unlock the door, in case Tony was already sleeping. 

Once he stepped into the apartment Adam had to stop for a moment to take in his surroundings.  
It was relatively small, yet a decent size for London… or England in general. The living room and dining area were one space while the open kitchen was sort of separated by being placed in the left corner. It was a standard, newly furnished white kitchen with a dark stone top, nothing too fancy but quite enough for Tony, who wasn’t the most brilliant chef ever but knew his standard dishes and would impress anybody who wasn’t used to the high-class cuisine. Adam had to smile at the expensive coffee machine sitting on top of the counter and stealing a lot of space but he knew little Tony absolutely loved and honored his coffee. It was fascinating, really, how much coffee his small frame could take in without shaking like a nervous Chihuahua. 

The living room was nicely decorated. Simple, yet influenced with Tony’s personality. Prints of Miró and Munch, among other painters that he did not recognize lined the wall as well as a bookshelf filled with endless novels. A cupboard perching a TV, a few houseplants and a record player with a Billy Joel record on top of it.  
Adam had to smile at the small pride flag sticking out of an empty wine bottle hidden in the bookshelf. Tony never really openly talked too much about his sexuality, probably due to his father never fully accepting him but it was nice to know he at least showed his pride in his own four walls.  
The sofa was old leather, perfectly worn with a multicolored blanket draped over it, which looked handmade and very Spanish. Perhaps an item from home.  
The dining table lining the big window was a marble top. It had flowers in a beautiful looking vase on it, but they looked like they didn’t get enough love, most likely due to Tony being extremely busy at the moment.  
Adam decided to take matters in his own hand and walked over to the kitchen, putting the soup and medicine on the counter and searching for a glass to fill with water for the poor things.  
He tried to be quiet but noticed he failed when he heard a faint “ello?” followed by a gut wrenching cough coming from one of the two closed doors, most likely from the bedroom. 

Adam cursed under his breath for waking up Tony but made his way to the source of the noise and knocked lightly on the door. He peeked into the room with a soft “Hey, it’s me. Sorry I woke you.” 

“Oh, Adam. Is alright.” Tony tried to sort himself out and cover his sick body with the sheets. His clothes were all wrinkled and sweaty, he was only half covered by the blankets and his hair must have been a total mess. He was embarrassed that Adam would see him like this. 

“What are you doing here? How did you even get in?” He asked in a quiet voice. 

“Kaitlin gave me your spare keys. Wanted to check up on you, brought you some soup from the lunch menu as well. I’m… We’re all worried about our maître d’.” 

Tony scoffed. As if they didn’t enjoy not having to deal with their boss for once. 

For the first time since stepping into the bedroom, probably every person’s most private, intimate room, Adam took in his surroundings.  
Tony was particularly swallowed by the massive bed, covered by extremely soft looking sheets and surrounded by big fluffy pillows. The room was only lit by faint sunlight coming in from the drawn grey blinds but Adam could still clearly see the room was kept minimalistic. White walls, dark oak furniture. A bed, a dresser, a nightstand and a shelf lined with small sculptures and a few more books. And a frame. For anybody else it would be hard to make out what was on the picture but Adam only needed a quick look to recognize it. It was the six of them, Jean Luc, Max, Michel, Reece, himself and Tony, pressed into his side. Adam himself had this picture still in his wallet but barely looked at it, for fear of if evoking regret, sorrow, dark thoughts and shame inside him. For some reason though, it made him happy to know Tony kept the picture on display. It made him think that maybe he was wrong in believing Tony only connected his time in Paris to the complete fuck up that was Adam Jones.  
Tony must have noticed him staring and commented after trying to push himself upwards to lean onto the headboard of the bed. Adam helped him, bending down to grab his arm for support. Their faces inches apart. 

“I never wanted to remember Paris on how it had ended. That’s why I kept the picture. We took it quite in the beginning, each of us so naïve and young. Full of enthusiasm. It reminds me why I wanted to work in the gastronomy in the first place.” Tony whispered, giving Adam the faintest smile. 

Adam felt his heart ache, couldn’t believe Tony’s absolute positive nature and had to look down for a second to recollect himself. It was his fault. He felt terrible knowing he messed it up. Knowing they could have already been where they are right now, maybe achieved even more… in Paris, had he not let them all, and especially Tony, down with his addiction. 

In order to change the topic and perhaps lift the bitter mood that seemed to drag him down, he proposed to quickly heat up the soup for Tony.  
He needed to get out of the room because seeing fragile Tony, looking ill and weak in bed together with his thoughts about Paris and how Tony must have felt when Adam simply disappeared on him and made him believe he was actually dead made him feel sick. Tony, left alone with Jean Luc, forced to close the restaurant and basically give up his dream. It made him close to breaking down but he needed to keep his shit together and focus on how far he’s come here in London, thanks to Tony. Thanks to his staff. Thanks to a new chance at life. 

He left the room quickly and rummaged through the kitchen cupboards for a pan to pour the soup into and heat it up.  
While he was stirring he heard shuffling behind him, turning around to see Tony in a light blue robe, with slippers on and a box of tissues in his hand. 

“Go back to bed, I’ll bring the soup to you. And I also brought medicine from the pharmacy.” 

“If there’s one rule in this apartment, it’s that food in bed is an absolute no go.” 

Adam had to roll his eyes at that. Bloody fancy gourmet snob. He proposed that Tony at least had his soup while making himself comfortable on the couch because being ill always called for exceptions to rules. Tony agreed, more or less willingly but mostly because standing up already cost him a lot of energy. 

“Has the doc already been here?” Adam asked while pouring the soup into a bowl and taking it over to the living room. 

“No. And I don’t need him here anyways. I’ll be fine by tomorrow, you’ll see.”  
Adam scoffed and sat himself close to Tony, offering him the bowl and a dishtowel to hold it. 

Tony was a bit surprised at how close Adam decided to sit on the relatively spacious couch and had to force himself even more to take a small spoonful of the soup because on top of the nausea, nervousness made it even more difficult to eat.  
He tried to swallow as much of it as his upset stomach allowed and almost had to moan at how warm and rich it tasted even with his not quite functioning taste buds. It was simply Adam’s cooking and he was mentally debating whether he preferred his mother’s Spanish cuisine when he was sick as a young boy or would if he would trade it for Adam’s soup.  
When he felt like he couldn’t manage more, due to sickness as well as Adam’s intense stare while he ate he placed the bowl onto the coffee table and just in that moment the doorbell rang, most likely announcing the arrival of Dr. Hudson. Adam opened the door for him and after a bit of confusion the rather old doctor realized he was opposite of Adam Jones of the Langham and they exchanged the usual greeting. 

Dr. Hudson was the family’s doctor, currently spending quite some time with Tony’s father due to his sickness. The two of them have always been kind of friends and Tony remembers quite a few evenings during his teenage years, having the doc over for dinner and trying to somehow survive endless discussions about politics and idle gossip. 

“Antonio, how are you feeling? I was told you’re terribly sick by your lovely head waitress.” 

Tony tried to stand up slowly but was immediately ordered to stay put and just let the doctor do his thing.  
He did the usual check up on him. Questions about the complaints, checking the throat, measuring the temperature and lastly checking the pulse. The doctor asked Tony to lift his shirt up for that, so that he could put the statoscope on his back. 

Adam all the while, stood by the marble dining table, watching with a worried gaze until he had to force himself to advert it when Tony lifted his shirt, since he himself seemed to be uncomfortable, being not only weak and sick but also half naked in front of Adam. 

The doctor declared what they all kind of already knew. It was definitely the flu; his temperature was rather high and the best medicine would be a lot of rest. He approved of the pills Adam brought back from reception and soon was gone again, claiming he had more business to attend to. 

After he had gone Tony tried to fix himself a bit, still feeling Adam’s eyes on him. He swallowed some pills and coughed a bit. Feeling worse by the second due to the uncomfortable silence in the room. 

“I’ll go make you some tea. And then I can leave you alone to rest properly.” 

With that Adam headed to the kitchen and Tony felt another pain in his already aching body. As uncomfortable as he just now felt, being watched by Adam while the doctor did his thing, he didn’t want to be alone. He hated being sick and bored at home. Feeling miserable, unproductive and lonely. He felt lonely even when he wasn’t sick but it made everything a hundred times worse.  
He looked at the clock hanging on the wall and saw that Adam didn’t have to be back for dinner service for at least another 1,5 hours or so.  
So when Adam came back with the tea, placing it on the little coffee table, Tony forced himself to spit out his thoughts. He blames it on the medicine and being ill. 

“Would you mind keeping me company a little longer. I mean… only… if you can afford to.” He had to cough loudly before continuing. “You know, considering the kitchen and dinner service and all. I’d totally understand. Who knows what Max and Helene are up to when you’re gone… And of course, I wouldn’t want to infect you too. Or maybe you have other plans. I don’t know.” 

Adam smiled. Tony rambled because he was nervous. Little did he know all Adam wanted to do was spend all the time with Tony until he was a hundred percent better. And then even more time. 

“Tony, it’s alright. I’ll stay. Do you want to watch some TV then, maybe you can nap better if there’s something on in the background?” 

“My cable doesn’t work. I only have a few old telenovelas on DVD from my mother. To dwell in nostalgia, I guess.” Tony was embarrassed, once again, but to Adam it was simply endearing. 

“Great, so we’ll watch those.” 

“You won’t understand them though. They’re in Spanish.” 

“Hey, I did go to high school and totally learned Spanish. Like almost fluently.” 

That got a little chuckle out of Tony since he was well aware of the extent of Adam’s high school Spanish. Back in Paris, in the early days at their favorite little bar, where it was still just booze and no hard drugs, Adam, completely wasted, tried to have an entire conversation with Tony in Spanish, simply taking English words and adding “o” at the end. Plus adding “amigo” wherever he could. Sounded a bit like “Tu comprendo whato yo sayo, amigo?” It was hilarious. 

Still, Adam put on the first DVD he saw in the little cupboard and put it on.  
“Corazón Salvaje.” He pronounced it awfully but it was amusing seeing him struggle and hearing that thick American tongue completely dragging out the sharp nature of the words.

Tony grabbed a blanket and put it over his lap waiting for Adam to sit back down next to him, but he just stood in front of the TV expectantly looking at Tony. 

“Don’t you want to lay down. So you can actually, you know, fall asleep.” 

“But then there’s no space for you to sit down.” 

“So… you can just put your feet on my lap. Or your head in my lap. Whatever.”  
Adam tried to play it cool. But he was practically burning inside. Nervous as fuck and surprised at his bravery to actually propose to Tony to fucking cuddle. 

They stared at each other intensely. Both kind of shocked at the proposal and blushing like some teenagers having their first crush. With the soundtrack of a random telenovela on in the background.  
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity of staring at each other, then looking away for a second and then finding each other’s face again, Adam moved to sit down. 

“So, what will you have? Feet or Head?” 

Adam seemed nervous. And Tony will blame it on the pills or the sickness (again) but he felt like he shouldn’t miss that opportunity to actually cuddle with Adam fucking Jones. Have his head in his lap. Feel his warmth and just doze.  
Before he lay his head down though, to make it less intimate, he takes a pillow and puts it on Adam’s lap, settling down and finding the right position.  
It all felt unreal, and if Tony could trust his own senses he could feel Adam was tense as well. 

“Is this comfy enough?” 

Tony wanted to tell him that yes, it was perfect, if not a bit awkward still but it’s basically one of the small little things he had dreamed of doing with Adam Jones since Paris and he couldn’t feel happier. Wasn’t it for the fact that I would probably never happen again and soon they would both not talk about it and maybe it was even a fever dream from the beginning.  
But all that he got out of his aching throat was a raspy “yeah, is good.” 

After a while they both seemed to relax a bit more. Tony feeling lightheaded again and ready to pass out and Adam just comfortable looking down at the brown mop of hair with the noise of dramatic Spanish conversations coming from the TV.  
He had a little smile on his face and couldn’t help, or rather didn’t even realize when his right hand started stroking through Tony’s hair.  
Tony was surprised at first, tensing up again and Adam immediately stopped his movements until Tony whispered a barely audible “don’t stop”.

Soon he was lulled to sleep by the sound of his mother tongue being spoken on the television, the warmth radiating from the body underneath his head and the soft strokes through his hair from the one person on this planet he had ever truly loved. 

When Adam had to leave in order to not be completely late to the evening service and because he did worry a tiny bit about the state his kitchen was in while he was gone, he tried to slip from under Tony’s head as smoothly as possible as to not wake the ill patient.  
After receiving his jacket from the back of one of the dining stools, he had to stop for another second and just take a look at him.  
Him who looked angelic even when he was paler than usual and had a red nose. Him who gave him a second change to bloom and always stood by his side, despite all the shitload that Adam left behind. Him, who deserved so much more.  
Confident that Tony was still fast asleep, Adam couldn’t help himself and simply had to press a small kiss on his forehead. 

Little did Adam know, Tony had woken up but didn’t really want to face the awkwardness between them after cuddling. He did not suspect however to receive such a tender kiss from Adam. It took him all the strength not to jump up in surprise or do something else stupid like start to cry.  
In hindsight, he wasn’t even sure whether his feverish brain didn’t just simply make it up to torture him further. 

Little did Tony know, Adam’s lips tingled all the way back to the Langham and he caught himself touching them quite a few times during the dinner service.


End file.
